by Peter Styles
Jessie ignored him and shut the door in their faces, shutting them inside the room with Pat behind the desk. He didn’t look up or say anything at all, but Angel could tell he was more aware than he seemed.
Chance grabbed Angel by the shoulders and shook him. “This is wrong!”
Angel grabbed his face, holding it in his hands and staring into his eyes. He tried to put everything he knew, everything he felt, everything that he was, into that look. Chance stared back at him, eyes going glassy with tears. They brimmed, threatening to spill through his lashes. “Chance, stop. Listen. This isn’t anything new to me.”
“It isn’t?” Chance whispered, and Angel’s heart gave another painful wrench as he realized what that meant to his precious boyfriend.
“This is,” he said, nodding down at the lack of space between them. “But I’ve been arrested before, been in court before. This jackass isn’t going to be able to really do anything to me. I just have to stay here until he runs out of steam.”
“But I…”
“Will have to go back home without me,” Angel finished. He could hardly breathe. “You’ll have to drive all that way yourself. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I—”
“Stop!” Chance covered his mouth. “Don’t say it. You’ll kill me. I can’t. I can’t go back without you. I can’t go back at all. I wasn’t going to! And now…what about your things? Your guitar?”
Through the pain, he forced himself to smile. “I guess the police will hold all my belongings.”
I’m sure I can take some of it to jail with me. Not the guitar, though. Strings are too deadly.
Leaning forward, he caught Chance’s face again with his hand and kissed him. Just as with his eyes, he tried to convey everything he felt with that single kiss. It was all they had time for, because just then the door behind them opened again and Jessie stepped back inside.
“Are you two ready?” she asked, in a tone that said they had better be.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear to take his hands from the man he loved, without having told him that he did. But, the worlds wouldn’t come and he knew Chance was right. If it was spoken out loud, it would kill them both.
“I’m ready,” Angel said.
Jessie nodded. “Stay in here with Pat. Don’t try anything. I’ll just see Chance out.”
Chance moved away from Angel, drifting as though inside a dream. He looked like a sleepwalker, like a man who has seen far too many ghosts in his lifetime but only now realized it.
The door shut in Angel’s face. Muffled, he heard Jessie speaking. A reply from Chance, and then footsteps receding as they left him far, far behind.
Just like that, he was alone. His heart shattered in half, piercing his lungs through with shrapnel that throbbed when he breathed. Grabbing his head in his hands, he slumped down to the floor. Tears pressed for release, but he kept them at bay.
He had done this before. He could get through it again in the same way he always had, one day at a time. And this time, he had something to count towards. No longer would he go back to pointless wandering.
When this was done, he would go back to Chance.
If Chance still wanted him.
Chapter 20
“So. How did everything go?”
Chance looked over at Rocky with bruised eyes and a bruised heart. No matter what he did, he just felt like a giant bruise: battered and broken down. “It went great,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, although he didn’t think the omitted part would ever cease hurting him.
“Yeah? It went so great that you’re back here like a week early?”
Chance ignored him, turning his head away. He started over towards the supply shed, feet trudging through trimmed grass. He had known all along that his premature arrival would raise questions, and he just didn’t know how to deal with any of that. The representative simply seemed to accept it, but she would come around looking for answers sooner or later. And Rocky…he was a pain. A curious, overbearing pain who started this conversation three times already. And it wasn’t even noon yet!
“Rocky, I really just don’t want to talk about it, okay? That’s my personal life. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. It doesn’t have to do with anyone but me, so just buzz off!”
His anger flared, getting the best of him. He stomped off to the shed.
Rocky called after him, “So, it went badly?”
But, Chance ignored him. He rifled around inside the shed, noting tiredly how much more disorganized it was now than when he’d left. He’d have to sort it out again sometime, but not today. Rocky had been neglecting the trimming, and there were some bushes and trees going basically crazy with branches jutting out across the pathways just enough to be a nuisance. Hefting up the sheers, he backed out of the shed again and started off towards the nearest wayward plant.
“Chance.”
He stopped, staring down at the green stains on the tops of his shoes. It wasn’t a question this time, or a tease. “What is it, Rocky? I just want to get to work.”
I want to forget. I want to be so busy that I can’t do anything at night but sleep. No more thinking. I’m done with that.
“Look at me, kid.”
The sheers hung limply at his side as he slouched, turning slightly in Rocky’s direction. He didn’t look up, and the old man let out a sigh. “What happened, Chance? Are you…uh…okay? If you know what I mean?”
“You’re asking if he hurt me,” Chance said flatly. He lifted up his head and glared at Rocky. To his surprise, the old man flinched backwards. Whatever expression Chance must have had on his face had to be fierce, even if he was so numb inside that he couldn’t feel it. “He didn’t hurt me.” Physically, that was. “Just…stuff happened.”
Rocky’s wrinkled face almost seemed to shrink in on itself. It would have been a funny face if not for the circumstances involved. “Shit. Is he still alive?”
Chance let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Yeah. He’s still alive. Listen, I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I just want to get to work.”
It seemed for a moment that Rocky might not back down, but then he held up his hands. “Okay. If you ever do want to talk about it, I don’t mind taking a break from work every now and again.”
“Thanks.” Chance gave as big of a smile as he could manage, which was actually a rather small one.
He never did talk about it with Rocky. The days passed. Summer deepened into a sort of hellishness that only Illinois residents could truly appreciate, with unending humidity that made it feel as if you were swimming through the air rather than walking. Some days, the temperature hit over a hundred and ten degrees and warnings were issued for those who were at risk for heat exposure. On those days, funerals were rescheduled. In that case, caretakers would normally switch over to working only nights but Chance already had that covered.
As much as things changed, they also stayed the same. Maybe a more accurate thing to say was that the more people tried to change, the more likely they were to return to their old ways.
And Chance returned to his old ways, working by night and staying in all the time reading. He ate terrible frozen food heated up in the microwave and stared up at his ceiling each night until exhaustion stole him away to sleep. Thoughts of Angel haunted him everywhere he went, and he started taking a different route to work just so that he never came within view of the Bullpen bar.
He never admitted to himself that when he worked at night, he stayed hyper aware of his surroundings. Cool night air brushed at the hair on the back of his neck as he looked up at the moon, listening periodically and hearing nothing but animals. No passersby. No late night workers walking home. No cars ever drove by.
And no one special ever threw rocks at him, or snuck up on him. Sometimes he thought he could feel Angel’s presence, eyes boring into the back of his neck. He kept his head down whenever that happened, relishing in the feel of his precious ghost pressing against his back. The night air became heated
breath, warming him.
Then, just before strong arms wrapped around him, the illusion shattered and he was left breathless and alone again with only the dead to keep him company.
The leaves on the trees browned, never becoming attractive oranges or reds. They were ugly, dirt-brown. Astoria went from being a crispy desert to a damp, barren wasteland.
A damp, barren piece of crap. Astoria sucks, Chance thought miserably. He knelt in front of a gravestone in the dark, rag in one hand and a bucket at his opposite side. The stone in front of him was covered in haphazard smears of cleaner, dripping down the surface. It was exactly as it had been on the night they met.
Despair swamped over him and he dropped the rag, leaning forward so that his forehead touched the ragged top of the headstone. His shoulders shook, tears burning at the backs of his eyes.
And then he felt it. Exactly as he had been imagining it, time and time again. A presence at his back. A heated gaze, burning him.
And that voice, larger than life even though he heard it every night in his sleep.
Slowly, he stood up and turned. A man dressed in blue stood behind him, a lopsided grin on his face and a guitar case slung across his back.
“Boo,” Angel said.
Chapter 21
He couldn’t breathe. It really had to be a ghost this time, this man standing before him who looked exactly like his boyfriend.
I don’t know what you are, Chance thought incoherently, but please stop. You’re hurting me.
His heart felt as though it was being sliced in half by a knife, and then in half again over and over until he was nothing but shredded pieces.
The man, the apparition, spread his arms wide. His expression softened from one of mischief to that of a person desperately wishing. “Please come here, Chance,” he said.
And Chance knew then that it was really, truly Angel. The pain inside his chest intensified, growing and growing until it was far too large for his body, too large for the world. The pain was something else entirely, an entity all its own now. It continued to expand, to encompass everything, until it became too large even to exist. Everything inside him broke in a single moment, and his feet were already running. He ran hard and fast, more fervent than he had ever been before.
He slammed into a wall of solid muscle that yielded beneath his touch only enough to take a slight step backwards for balance. Throwing his arms around Angel’s body, Chance buried his face in his neck and sobbed. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him in close. Fingers rifled softly through his hair, stroking tenderly.
“It’s okay,” Angel whispered. “It’s okay, Chance. I came back. I’m here.”
“You’re an idiot,” Chance wept. Hot tears burned down his cheeks, soaking into the material of the blue jacket Angel wore. “I can’t believe you. You idiot.”
Angel lay his cheek on top of Chance’s head, and Chance cuddled deeper into the embrace. “I know. But I’m your idiot. I came back. I’ll always come back.” Angel suddenly trembled, nails digging into Chance’s shoulders. “Don’t you understand? I’ve never gone back to anywhere before you. There’s never been home before you.”
My home.
Chance felt the same.
He never wanted the moment to end, clutching at it with both hands, but they couldn’t just stand there together with the wind swirling around them. He pulled back and looked up into Angel’s brown eyes, rendered dark and mournful by the night. All that he wanted to say was postponed for a moment longer—and what was a moment when he had waited months—as he pressed his lips to that of the other man.
Though they kissed often before, and for a variety of different reasons, this time felt different. It was not at all chaste, and it was not a question, an answer, or an invitation. It was simply a kiss, an acknowledgment between them that lasted for the perfect length of time. And if Angel’s lips were a little thinner than he remembered, his face a little gaunt, Chance hardly cared.
They parted again but kept their foreheads together for slightly longer, before Chance leaned his head back to talk. “We can’t stand here all night, but you have to tell me what happened. Please.”
Angel didn’t exactly pull away, but somehow they now found themselves pulled apart and standing side-by-side with their hips pressed together. One hand shoved in his pocket, and the other wrapped around Chance’s waist. Together, they looked up at the nearly-full moon.
“So, they held me awhile at the station because it was pretty damn clear that asshole was going to press charges on me,” Angel began. “And he did. He paid his own bail and went home.”
Chance winced. “Bastard.”
“Right,” Angel agreed cheerlessly. “But, the thing is, I could have paid my bail, too. It wasn’t very high and I had enough money for it, I just…didn’t know what I would do after that. So, I didn’t pay it. And they sent me from the holding cell to the prison. And that’s where I was. See, the good thing is it was more like a jail. And I was a low threat, so things were pretty lax. I didn’t have to stay in my cell all day, and I got to have things with me. I got to do jobs and earn actual money, while not spending any.” His lips twisted grimly. “I can see why some people deliberately get arrested. It really wasn’t that bad. And most of the people in there were pretty okay. No one I’d want to be friends with forever, but good enough to play cards and joke around with when serving food in the cafeteria.”
Chance kept listening quietly. Despite the reassurance that Angel’s experience hadn’t been bad for the most part, he still couldn’t help but to worry. “But, I mean…we’re gay…and it was jail. Are you…”
Angel’s arm tightened around him. “I’m okay. No one knew anything about me. No one did anything. I promise.”
Oh, thank god.
“I got visitors every now and again. That cop, and that guy’s wife. His name was Henry. Hers was Henrietta. Hell of a thing.”
Chance blinked at Angel. “She visited you?”
“She did. She told me she was so ashamed of him for acting that way and that she was divorcing him. She said she would actually testify against him in court. And she did.” Angel shrugged. “I don’t know how they managed to do it, but I guess an opening came up and the cops managed to shuffle around the date for me so that it happened a lot sooner than it might have. It took all of three hours for the jury to decide what Henry did was harassment, and since he did it because we’re gay that made it a hate crime. So now he’s in jail, being divorced, and I’m a free man.”
Chance turned to Angel and wrapped his arms around his neck tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he breathed. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Yeah,” Angel said. “I would have come sooner, but I had to do something first.” A bit of color and liveliness seemed to return to his face, followed by a soft grin. “You know you get one call? I saved mine. The police had to give it to me anyway, so I saved it until just before they carted me off.”
Why didn’t you call me?
Chance wondered if he should be hurt. But soon, he knew he definitely shouldn’t be.
“I called Lester, at the Public House. I told him all about what happened, and he asked if there was anything he could do. You know, in that way people ask when they don’t want to do anything. So I told him to call Lucille for me and tell her what I told him. And I guess he did, because when I was in jail, I got a call from her. And a few more. And when I got out, I went back to Colorado to see her.”
Angel turned suddenly to take Chance’s shoulders in his hands, lowering his head to look down into his eyes. A man had never looked as serious as Angel did right then. His eyes practically glowed. “Chance, you are my home. I want to be with you more than anything. I asked Lucille if she could help out a fellow musician…and I swear its fate, Chance. Her roommate just up and left Lucille on her own in her apartment. She was just about to start looking for someone to move in with her. Chance, that could be us. I know it isn’t perfect. But it would only be temporary. We could mov
e. We could both get jobs, find our own apartment. We could…”
Chance didn’t need to hear anymore. He tapped Angel’s lips with his finger to get him to stop talking, and then leaned in to kiss him. This time, the kiss was an answer. His whole life, he had spent it being timid and pushed around. Going away with Angel for a vacation was only the first step towards being stronger, and now he took another.
Chapter 22
Two months later…
From somewhere behind the wall came a familiar creaking sound.
Chance looked up from the book tucked in his hand, marking his spot with his pinky as he shut it to look around. As always, he was struck by the sight of their apartment and had to smile. It probably wouldn’t look like much to an outside eye, especially with dishes in the sink that needed washing and a floor coated in a thin layer of cat fur, but he couldn’t have been happier with it. It was still so new that they hadn’t really settled on a theme for anything and had only a scattering of decorations here and there. Angel had musical books and sheets here and there, while Chance had built—with difficulty—a few store-bought bookshelves and happily filled them with every book he owned. That meant a great deal of empty space, but he just saw it as an opportunity to fill those spaces in the future.
The squeaking came again, distinctly louder than last time.
Smiling a little more, Chance folded down the corner of the page in his book and set it to the side on the futon. Pushing himself up, he strode out of the living room and off down the hallway to the bedroom.
What he found there was exactly what he expected to find.
Angel lay on the bed, naked from head to toe with an enormous erection held in one hand like a warrior carrying his sword. His face was red from pumping blood, but not as red as the swollen tip of his cock. The muscles in his thighs flexed as he thrust against his own hand. Chance’s mouth opened slightly with desire as he watched, knowing that Angel was holding back and deliberately making the bed squeak so he would have to come investigate.